an aid to laundry troubles

[unsheathedfromreality]

[At some handwave-y time shortly after the closing of the Story, a note in an workmanlike cursive hand goes up on the bulletin board:]

If you need a change of clothing, I can make simple tunics and trousers that won't disappear.

Find me:

[A simple doodle of Illarion's face follows: Pointy ears, long hair, blindfold (or veil), malar stripes. Enough to go on when most of the Library is human.

It is signed below the doodle with an eye-and-feather symbol. No name.]

IC UPDATE:

[A few hours after the initial post goes up, an additional sheet of paper is appended to it:]

Payment is not necessary but if you're one of those who can make or find permanent items, you can bring one of the following:

- Fabric
- Thread or gut
- Head/round knife
- Awl
- Leathering needle
- Raising hammer
- Pliers
- Portable anvil
- Hides or leather

NO glitter. We have plenty.

Comments

[unsheathedfromreality]

[The larger pieces of silk -- the project Nara'a's picked up -- is roughed into the shape of a long dress with belled sleeves.

The shrike watches a moment, before putting in,]

If you've met Mrs. Mina Harker, that's for her. Don't have measurements for her.

[Implied: If Nara'a knows better how to get it approximately the right size and proportions, that would be good. Illarion hasn't done a half-bad job from eyeballing, but it's not the same as actually having measurements.]

[aetherweaver]

All right. I can make a good guess, though it might be slightly large. I'm used to making clothing for different genders and sizes. She's a hyur, or whatever her equivalent is, so it should be relatively easy.

[Look, it's not for a 7'5" roegadyn, this is easy. He doesn't even have to cut a tail hole for her.]

[unsheathedfromreality]

Better than small. [With someone concerned about modesty, a less-flattering dress wasn't as much of a fault. At least, to Illarion's thinking.

He takes the rest of the silk that's not for the sarafan, retreating to another table with it. There's another tunic and a belt in all of this, if he stretches.]

[aetherweaver]

Exactly.

[He sighs and starts hemming the waist - not too tight, but enough to have a shape.]

I suppose I didn't realize that you were also a crafter.

[unsheathedfromreality]

Wouldn't call myself that. Had to sew clothing often enough in my centuries that my hands still remember the patterns.

[He rearranges the pieces of the tunic and begins stitching.]

Never made anything someone would wear for a feastday, but I could keep my children covered.

[aetherweaver]

You have children?

[He looks at the other curiously - he's never really planned on having any, for various reasons, so he's interested in those that do.]

But I suppose on a long enough timeline you do end up doing most things.

[unsheathedfromreality]

Five of them.

[There should be pride behind that; it's merely stated.]

They were all my joy.

[Were. Because he has no joy, now.]

True enough. There's deep elves out there who can do anything you ask them to. Have some damned strange magecraft, too, after all their years.

[aetherweaver]

[... Dead, maybe. Definitely not a subject to bring up unless the other does.]

Elezen, at least on my st - world, live to be perhaps forty summers older than most races. Viera are the ones who live multiple centuries - they have long ears like rabbits or hares. Though I don't know all that much about their level of control over aether generally, I can imagine it's quite skilled.

There were a race of people who lived thousands of years that occupied the world previously, but no longer.